The Last One Standing
by Dark Amystika
Summary: DOTV fic-It's 2030, and there's only one human left in the world; a desparate girl in hiding. But when you're surrounded by the undead, & you've only a rosary, a crumbling church, & a sacred flame for protection, you've got to wonder when enough's enough.
1. Friendly Fire

Disclaimer: I don't own any "DOTV" stuff, etc., etc., you know the drill. I also don't own "Riding The Winds Of Eternity" or "Beyond The Gates Of Infinity"; they belong to Rhapsody (and they are an amazing group, by the way). Enjoy. Friendly Fire 

"I am the only human left. The last."

The words rang through the empty church, echoing in the long-forgotten stone walls and dusty pews. No one had entered here in over a century. Now it was the home of one young girl, who sat leaning against the altar hugging her knees, gazing sadly into the small fire before her. She had lit the fire with one of the sacred flames from the altar itself, in the hopes that this would provide further protection from the evil outside.

"The last," she whispered again. She could hardly bring herself to say the words, but it was true. After an ancient prophecy was fulfilled in the late 1800's, vampires had set out to conquer the Earth, and she was the last human left alive. All the others had either been turned, or killed. She was the only thing keeping the prophecy from being completed. And now she was virtually trapped in this crumbling church, with no way out. She knew full well that the entire church was surrounded by vampires. If she tried to leave, they'd easily overtake her. She could only risk sneaking out through a secret tunnel to steal the bare essentials from a nearby food mart, and then not without wearing a rosary and dabbing holy water and garlic on her neck and wrists like perfume. In the old world, the world of humans, she would have looked like a tramp, or a homeless runaway. Five months she had hidden herself away, and time and neglect had taken their toll. Only her hazel eyes remained clear and bright, but they were growing weary, like the rest of her. Her face was dirty and sooty, as were her hands and faded, tattered clothes. Her hair was snarled and tangled, its colour almost indiscernible. There were thick lines of dirt under her fingernails. Her fingernails were also rather odd-looking. She had grown them out unusually long and filed them into points sharp enough to draw blood. They were her last defense if she was ever caught off-guard. She had been once, and she only escaped by clawing at her assailant's eyes. He had screamed and released her, allowing her to get back to the safety of the church. When she had looked back at him while closing the door, she saw blood streaming from his eyes, yet his eyes healed and became whole again even as she watched. She had slammed the door in haste.

She sighed tiredly and blew half-heartedly on her little fire, fingering her rosary. She was not religious, not in the accepted form of religion anyway, but she wore the rosary to protect herself and remind herself of someone she had loved very much. The rosary had been her grandmother's, and she had found and kept it after her passing. Only when she wore it did she feel truly safe, so she never took it off, even though she knew the devils outside could not enter. She had not invited them in, she had placed holy wafers in the windows, and she was in a _church_, for crying out loud. There was no way one of them could come in. Probably not even if she _did_ invite them. And they knew that just as well as she did. So they had tried to make her come to them.

She had originally been hiding with someone else: Scott, her boyfriend. Unfortunately, the previous day when they went to steal food, he had been caught in their flight back to the church. He shouted for her to go on, get to safety without him, but she tried to save him first. But there were too many. She had to run. That night, voices had called to her enticingly, saying they had something she wanted. Tired and bitter, she came to the window. The courtyard was full of vampires, and they were holding Scott. They told her to come out and she could have him back, but he cried for her to stay inside, to stay alive. She was frozen to the spot where she stood. What could she do? Soon, however, the vampires lost patience.

"Fine," they sneered. "Have it your own way!" And right before her eyes, they attacked Scott. She shrieked in rage, seized a nearby cross, and rushed outside.

"Demons!" she yelled, brandishing the cross like a sword. "Devils! Nightmare souls! Get away from here! Stay away from me, from him, from here! I'll kill you all! I will destroy you!" She hardly knew what she was saying, but the sight of the cross caused the vampires to retreat, but they were laughing all the way. Panting, she dropped the cross and cast a Wiccan circle of protection, finishing the spell with the words, "I stand now in sacred space. Only light may enter this place." That done, she dropped next to Scott. He was still breathing. Raggedly, yes, but breathing nonetheless. She held him close to her, almost crying with relief. Scott groaned and opened his eyes.

"Islene?" he asked, almost inaudibly. She smiled at him.

"Yes, it's me," she said. "Come on, we have to get inside." Scott's eyes widened.

"No, no, go in without me. Don't come near me!" he said in anguish, pushing her away feebly.

"Scott, it's OK, I'm going to take care of you," insisted Islene, trying to get him to stand. He only moaned and pushed her again.

"No, go while you can, you're not safe with me now!" he said, pushing her towards the church. Finally, Islene realized what was happening.

"No," she sobbed, tears coming down her cheeks. "No!"

"Go now!" shouted Scott, rising slowly to his feet and backing out of the circle. "Go now and leave me!" Sobbing, Islene turned and fled inside. Once she had bolted the door and fixed the cross above it, she sank to the floor and cried for hours. Finally, her tears run dry, she had set about making her little fire and there she remained, staring into it, and voicing those terrible words at last:

"I am the only human left. The last."

_The last…_it was so hard to imagine that, in the entire world, there was only one human left, and it was she. Six billion vampires and one human girl. She was amazed that she had lasted this long. The church bells rang out in the tower. Sunset. She sighed, knowing what would soon happen. The air would thicken with those enticing voices, promising untold wonders if she would only come out to them. Come out, and give up everything she and Scott had fought for. She wasn't ready to do that yet. She hadn't given up. She turned her attention back to her friendly little fire. For a split second, she thought she saw her own reflection there, her filthy, disheveled face in the flames. She gasped and started, and the vision was gone. But she knew what she saw. She knew what she had become over five months. She looked down at her filthy hands, and frowned, disgusted with herself for allowing herself to get like this.

"This is revolting," she said. "There's got to be somewhere I can clean myself up around here." So saying, she put out her fire and set off to search the church. After a while, she found an abbey. After perusing it for a while, she finally came upon a bathroom.

"Perfect," she said in satisfaction. With that, she entered and ran herself a nice hot bath, wondering why she didn't think of this five months ago. _'Better late than never,'_ she thought with a small shrug. She had more important things to worry about. Such as the fate of all of humanity.

_'Or lack thereof…'_

Shaking her head, she took off her filthy clothes and slipped into the tub. As an afterthought, she picked up her clothes and scrubbed them as best she could in the hot water with a cake of old soap she found nearby. That done, she wrung them out as much as possible and laid them flat on the ground. _'They'll be wearable, at least,'_ she decided. She soaked for a long time in the tub, lounging there until the water grew cold. When that happened, she rinsed herself off, drained the tub, toweled dry, and checked her clothes. They were still damp. Shrugging again, she simply wrapped her hair up in the towel and wrapped a fresh one around her like a toga, gathered up her clothes, and went to make another fire to dry them with. For at least an hour she sat, periodically turning her clothes over to dry them on all sides. Finally, they were dry and rather warm. She dressed, put out her fire, and looked around for somewhere to sleep that wasn't too dusty. At length, she just decided to sleep right where she was, against the altar. She settled down, making herself as comfortable as possible, and shut her eyes. Then the whispers began.

"Islene…"

She simply turned on her side, facing away from the windows and doors. She had been through this before.

"Islene…won't you come out?"

"Obviously not," she muttered to herself.

"We're waiting for you. Scott is here with us, you know."

"I'll bet he is."

"He misses you. He wants you to come out and join him."

"Not bloody likely."

"It's not like you'd be giving up, or surrendering to us. It's more like you're just joining us, that's all."

"No, it's giving up and surrendering to you."

"Just make it easier for yourself. You're tired, aren't you. Tired, hungry, weary of the fight. It doesn't have to be this way."

"No, indeed. You could leave me alone."

"Please, Islene. Think of what's best for yourself now. Think of what your parents would say. Or your grandmother."

Instantly Islene was on her feet and at the window, her eyes blazing with fury. "Never speak of her again, ever! _Bricriu! _All of you! Bastards! Leave me in peace! It doesn't matter now what happens; I will never give up the fight! You've stolen everything from me, but you won't have me! And I'll never believe Scott is with you!" Even as she said so, she was searching the great host of vampires for her boyfriend's face. He was not there, to her immense relief. She turned from the window. "Be off, begone, I'm done with you."

"Islene…" the voices insisted patiently, obviously humoring her. Islene gritted her teeth.

"Riding the holy winds

Winds of Eternity!

I'll fight you forever!

Nightmare sons!" she sang loudly to drown them out. They exchanged glances. Apparently, they had heard her.

"You can't hide in there forever."

"Can't I, then?"

"We won't leave without you, Islene. You've kept us waiting too long now."

"Then you're going to be out there for a very long time."

"We won't hurt you. We'll give you everything you've ever dreamed of! Adventures beyond even _your_ wildest dreams! If you only come out to us."

"Keep away, monsters of hell!

No, I won't give you my inviting flesh!" she sang again.

_'You're only encouraging them,'_ a little voice in the back of her head pointed out. Islene shrugged, went to the altar, took some of the soft wax and plugged her ears with it. She could see the vampires at the window, calling to her, reaching out to her. She couldn't hear a thing they were saying. Smiling grimly, she lay down again and went to sleep.

A/N: _Bricriu_=the poison-tongued


	2. Object of Interest

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to update, but I've been away on vacation for the last week, and then the system must have crashed because I couldn't log on and upload last night. Oh well.

Object of Interest

It was almost sunrise by the time the vampires surrounding the church decided to call it quits for the night. Islene had slept lightly throughout the night, her dreams haunted by visions of her beloved Scott in the hands of nightmarish creatures, tormented, agonized, and completely at their mercy. Or lack thereof, as the case was. And she saw herself, running towards him but never moving forwards. Indeed, she seemed to be moving backwards as Scott was taken slowly away from her, his screams of anguish echoing in the darkness, surrounding her, choking her, until she awoke with a violent start and a choked, _"No!"_ She looked all around her, fearful that she would see the demons with Scott. Slowly she relaxed, trying to still her racing heart.

"Islene…"

She froze. She knew the voice, but she didn't know how. It held no menace, or _mesmer_, as she called the hypnotic quality the vampires' voices took on when they called to her, taking the word from a book she had read, but it had to be a vampire. But who?

"Who's there?" she asked.

"Islene…it's me."

Her eyes widened. "Scott?" she whispered, her voice squeaking a little. "Is it really you?"

"Yes. And I'm alone. I'm out here. Come to the window; you don't have to come outside."

Obligingly, Islene went to the window. Standing outside, all alone and looking very somber, was Scott. She gave a small cry of delight, and started for the door. But then she stopped. This could all be a clever trick. An illusion, a strange game of the light. She wasn't going to be fooled so easily. She walked back to the window slowly.

"Prove it," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Scott arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Prove you are the real Scott," she said.

"How shall I do that? I first asked you out on your birthday two years ago. Our first date was to see Phantom of the Opera, your favourite Broadway musical. Afterwards, I gave you a black rose, our symbol of undying love. For your last birthday, I gave you a custom-made silver locket in the shape of a rose with a picture of the two of us together inside. We found the bodies of both our families just a few weeks ago while we were away at a Ren faire, for which you had dressed in a Sherwood Forrest gown bought online from a Jeannie Nitro site. I wore a…"

"Not good enough," said Islene flatly. "There had to be vampires at all those events; you could know that from any one of them."

"Then what do you wish of me?"

"Tell me my name. Say it, if you know, or let me be."

Scott gazed at her for a moment. "I understand your skepticism. Your name is SIN. It stands for Soul Islene Nyelle. You always went by your middle name to save yourself from being taunted more than necessary. You only wanted me to call you Soul because I love you. It was special. It was just for us. You are Soul."

Islene stood staring wide-eyed at him. "Yes!" she finally said, nearly speechless with joy. She rushed outside to him and into his arms, almost crying. Scott held her close, but he kept his head back a little. Islene knew perfectly well why, but she tried to kid herself into believing something else was the reason. "Oh, Scott," she whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I should have moved faster, I could have saved you, I should have-"

"Shh," said Scott gently, pulling back and placing a finger to her lips. "You don't have to say anything. It wasn't your fault. Shh, don't cry. It's all right." He took her face in his hands lovingly and smiled at her, brushing away her tears. "I love you. I always love you. And I will always love you." She smiled back now.

"I love you too," she said. "And I want to be with you. So the question now is: What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"I want to be with you too," he said. "But I don't want you to give up all that we've fought for just for me. It can't be this easy for them. They've put us through hell, now we're going to give it right back to them. If they ever do get you, I'll make sure they don't kill you, so we can be together." He looked at the sky and frowned. "But I should go soon, before I'm missed. But I'll come back, if I can."

"Yes, please," said Islene. "I want to see you again."

"And I you," replied Scott smiling. He leaned in towards her and their lips met. Islene pulled back sharply, however, when Scott bit her lip.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, licking the few drops of her blood off his lips. "Really, I didn't mean to do that."

"No, I understand," said Islene, sucking on her bleeding lip. "You can't help it, can you." It really wasn't a question. Scott sighed sadly.

"I have to go," he said.

"You can't stay any longer?" asked Islene, though she already knew the answer. Scott didn't reply, just kissed her again.

"I will come back," he insisted. "Good-night…Soul." With that, he vanished into the night. Islene hurried back to the church. Before she entered, however, she turned back one last time.

"Good-night, sweet prince," she whispered, and entered the church, locking the door behind her. Neither she nor Scott had noticed the humanoid figure hiding in the shadows watching them.

"Hmm…interesting," he mused. With a wicked grin, he left.


	3. Tattletale

A/N: I don't own "The Dark Tower of Abyss", that also belongs to Rhapsody. Also, I don't know exactly what the Latin means, so I can't give a translation. Sorry, I tried. And I'm changing the rating because of some sexual content. I don't to be found guilty of another "infraction" and have my account locked again. Please tell me if I don't need to change it. BTW, sorry, no pregnant teens here. That's just wrong, whether in fiction or in life, teenagers should NOT be having sex.

Tattletale

Scott walked away from the church slowly and heavily, glancing back every so often. He had seen Islene standing at the door, heard her whisper good-night. He glanced around. He saw and sensed no one. Then again, he was still new and his powers weren't very strong. Still, he had to see her one more time. He snuck back to the window and glanced in. Islene sat leaning against the altar, making a fire, her lips moving. Scott listened, trying to project his hearing through the window. She was singing again, in her high, operatic voice.

_"Domine deterges nubila caelo,_

_Bellato a proposito non deterreres,_

Unholy vision, ancestral terror!

Spare my mind, my innocent eyes!"

Scott sighed sadly again. He wished, not for the first time, that he was in there with her to hold her, comfort her, draw her tired mind away from the evil they were fighting. But he couldn't any longer. He could only watch as she lay down against the altar and fell asleep, her face relaxed and peaceful for once, lit by the golden flames of her little fire. Smiling sadly, he walked away, hoping he had not been missed and praying he had not been followed.

Chuckling evilly, Aaron slipped into the great Gothic castle that overlooked the entire town. The Count liked to have one overlooking every town and city he ran. Which meant all of them in the world, of course. But his very favourite was in his homeland, Transylvania. Which was precisely where they were, right outside Lower Belabartòkovitch, right where it all began. Aaron bolted down the innumerable halls and passages, heading for the Count's library.

"Well hel-_lo_ there, handsome."

Aaron groaned inwardly, rolling his eyes. 'He never gives up, does he?' he thought, forcing himself to smile and turn. "Evening, Herbert."

Herbert smiled playfully and sauntered towards him. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

"Looking for your father. Is he in the library?" asked Aaron, hoping this wouldn't turn into another one of Herbert's "I-could-tell-you-but-you'd-have-to-fuck-me" games. No such luck.

"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllll, I _could_ tell you, if I _wanted_ to," Herbert purred, looking at his bright red fingernails as he spoke. Aaron groaned audibly this time.

"How many must I tell you this?" he asked. "I'm _straight_, Herbert, _straight¸_ which means I don't screw guys."

"There's a first time for everything," replied Herbert patiently. C'mon, Aaron, _puh-leeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaazzzzze?_ Pretty please?

"Good-night, Herb," said Aaron, turning and walking away.

"He's not in the library," called Herbert sadly. Aaron stopped and turned around. "He's with Sarah. In the bedroom."

"Damn, bad timing," said Aaron, feeling kind of bad for Herbert. He wasn't a bad guy, really, just very persistent. Or _in_sistent, as the case may be.

"They've been in there a long time, so it should be OK," said Herbert.

"OK, thanks," said Aaron, starting towards the Count and Countess's bedroom. Sighing, he stopped and turned back again. "Look, Herb, I'm sorry. I really am. I like you, but only as a friend. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I guess." Herbert looked up at him curiously, and smiled.

"Aw, it's all right," he said. Aaron smiled back, waved, and left.

He reached the bedroom in a few minutes and raised his fist to knock. Then he hesitated, and listened for a minute to make sure he wasn't interrupting. The last time he had, he had lost his hand for the night. He didn't want to do that again. But no sound came from the room. Satisfied, he knocked lightly, just in case they were sleeping. There was a muffled sound of footsteps and the door opened, revealing the Count. Upon seeing Aaron, he slipped out into the hall and shut the door. Putting a finger to his lips, he motioned for Aaron to follow him. They went to the Count's library. Once there, the Count turned to Aaron.

"Sarah's sleeping," he explained. "I don't want anything to disturb her. She hasn't been feeling well. Something she drank disagreed with her."

"I hope she feels better soon, "said Aaron. "I have news of the girl, Your Excellency."

"Ah, yes," said the Count with a smile. "Our brave little survivor. What of her?"

"Scott met with her tonight," said Aaron. The Count cocked an eyebrow in interest.

"Really?" he said. "Did he, now. I assume he did not bite her."

"Accidentally, on the lip," replied Aaron. "While he was kissing her. But he did not turn her."

"No. I suppose he wouldn't," said the Count thoughtfully.

"Something else, too," said Aaron eagerly. This much gossip could get him promoted from stool-pigeon to lieutenant or something. "Islene, making sure he wasn't an illusion to draw her out of the church, asked him to tell her something only the two of them know. That turned out to be her name. 'Islene' is her middle. Her first name is Soul. Her initials spell out 'sin', Soul Islene Nyelle. She only let Scott call her Soul because they love each other, and it was a special sort of sign for them. And Scott has promised to visit her again tomorrow night." The Count's grin had been stretching wider and wider during this time, and now Aaron was afraid that it would freeze that way.

"This could be it," he said. "This could be the key to ensnaring our clever friend. We cast an illusion around someone to give them the appearance of Scott, lure Islene out of the safety of the church, and then…she's ours."

"Brilliant, Your Excellency," said Aaron, feigning admiration and wisely not mentioning that this was the obvious course of action and anyone could have told him that. "But there's one other thing."

"And what might that be?" asked the Count.

"Scott promised her that, if she was caught, he would try to prevent us from killing her," said Aaron. "He wants to be with her forever. And honestly, I think she deserves it after all this. With all due respect, Excellency, I think we should turn her."

"Good God, Aaron, you think I'm such an unprincipled character," said the Count dismissively. "I never had any intention of killing her."

"Oh, well, that's good to hear," said Aaron in surprise. "Ah, may I venture to ask why?"

"You may," replied the Count. "That doesn't mean I'll venture to answer."

"Of course, Your Excellency," said Aaron with a slight bow. "If that is all-"

"That is not all," replied the Count smoothly. Aaron immediately straightened. "I want you to be our decoy for Islene. But do _not_, under _any_ circumstances, bite her. I want her brought to me. _I_ will be the one to turn her."

"Certainly, Excellency," said Aaron, hoping he wasn't overdoing the "Excellency" nonsense. 'God, I want that promotion,' he thought. 'Then I can finally dispense with this nauseating groveling.'

"I heard that," said the Count calmly. Aaron flushed.

"I-I'm truly sorry, Excellency, I-I-I didn't mean any d-disrespect…" he stammered.

"Calm yourself, Aaron," replied the Count. "Actually, I was growing weary of your incessant groveling as well. And you are not my "stool-pigeon", you're simply good at getting information when I want it." With a grin, he added, "But you can have your promotion. And call me Giovanni."

"Thank you Your…ahem, Giovanni," said Aaron in surprise. "Shall I go out tomorrow night, then?"

"That would be logical," said the Count. "That is when she'll be expecting Scott. Oh, and he cannot be allowed to leave, of course. Make sure he is always watched."

"Certainly," said Aaron.

"Oh, and send the groups out to call to her as usual," said the Count. "If they don't show up but Scott does, she'll be suspicious. We can't have that."

"I'll take care of that first thing in the evening," promised Aaron. "Anything else?"

"That should do it," replied the Count. "And have a room prepared for her. Make sure she'll be comfortable."

"Right," said Aaron, and he turned and left when the Count said nothing more. Giovanni waited until he could no longer even sense Aaron before going to a desk hidden somewhere deep in the labyrinthine library. Once there, he activated a hidden switch underneath. The centre of the desktop opened up, revealing a hidden compartment with a picture inside. He took it out and gazed at it for a while.

"Very soon, Linda," he said softly. "I'll atone for my mistakes. Soon, you can forgive me."


	4. Underestimation

A/N: YES! Finally, a new review on this story! BTW, Nessarose, so glad you liked "Prophecy"! Remember, if you want a new chapter all you have to do is push that little bitty button next to the little bitty box marked Submit Review, and I will be glad to update. It really is that simple (sorry to be so weird, I just love reviews and I have a rule that I don't update unless I get at least one new review)! 

Underestimation

Mercifully, Islene was spared from dreams that day while she slept, though she wondered if that was for better or worse. She sighed, stretched, and looked out the window to see how much time had passed. Judging by the sun's position in the sky, she estimated it was about noon, maybe a little later.

"So, what do I want to do today?" she asked aloud. "I'm good with food for another week, I'd say. So what's left?" She sighed. "I wanted an adventure, something wonderful and unreal. This isn't exactly what I meant." Biting her lip, she whispered, "I miss my family. I wish they were here with me now. I wish I had been there that night. I could have at least died with them. I want my mommy." Narrowing her eyes in sudden anger, she threw back her head and shouted, "Yes, that's right, I said I want my mommy! I do! But I can't have her, now, can I? It's not fair! She promised she'd always be there for me when I needed her. Well, I need her! So give her back! I couldn't _possibly_ need her more than I do now!" With a roar of fury, she sent her fist slamming into the wall, bloodying her knuckles. "Do I really have to hurt myself!" she screeched, pummeling the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks. Suddenly, something hit her hand lightly and clinked to the ground. She stopped and looked down at it. Her eyes widened and she sank slowly to the ground when she saw what it was. It was a gold heart locket with two intertwined hearts and a sprig of some sort of plant engraved onto the front. Her mother's locket, which she had given to Islene. With trembling fingers, Islene picked it up and opened it and sat for a long time, staring at the pictures of her father and mother inside, crying silently. Finally she smiled and shook her head.

"Keep it together, Lee," she told herself. "You almost lost your cool, there. They're still with you, even if it's not physically. You have to win this fight for them, too." She straightened, fastened the locket around her neck with the one she had gotten from Scott, and stood. "I think I'll visit the library." So saying, she head off, sucking on her bleeding knuckles.

The church's library was enormous and covered with layers of ancient dust. Islene immediately sensed many troubled spirits lingering among the primordial tomes and manuscripts, and wondered vaguely how many others had hidden and died here before her. 'How long has this been going on?' she thought. Shrugging, she went to the nearest bookshelf and scanned the spines for a title that caught her interest. She found Faust, to her surprise, and decided to read that one. She had been meaning to anyway. She spent the entire day in the library, going from book to book to book, seemingly determined to read herself to death. She laughed inwardly at the thought. _'N__ot possible,'_ she thought dismissively. She sang as she read, something that had amazed her family members. After she grew weary of reading, for there isn't much pleasure reading material for a teenage girl to be found in a church library, she went to a desk she had stumbled across and decided to write for a time. She had always loved writing, and sharing what she wrote with her family. She began a long tale of a girl, trapped in a church and besieged by nightmares, go on to destroy all the evil and save those she loved. When she finally finished, she looked at what she had written and laughed contemptuously.

"Yeah, like that'll ever happen," she snorted derisively. "Face it, Lee, you're stuck in here forever, and you'll never be with those you love again. So just deal with it!" She snatched up the papers, with every intention of using them for kindling, then put them back again. "No point in wasting a perfectly good story," she said softly. "Maybe someone will find it someday and have a good laugh at good ol' Islene, with her high-blown ideas of saving a doomed world." She left the room and went back to her altar to make a fire. She fished out her food supply from under the altar and heated some Campbell's Soup-At-Hand by placing a grate, supported by two wooden legs, over the flames and placing the soup on top for a few minutes. It was hot to the touch when she took it off the fire, but her hands were always cold anyway so it didn't bother her too much. As she sipped the soup, burning her tongue in the process, she glanced out the window. It was sunset. The vampires would be coming soon. Well, she intended to be asleep by then, her ears sealed with wax. They would be no matter. Sipping her soup, she waited. As soon as the sun was gone from the sky (though why they waited until full darkness when they could withstand sunlight was beyond her), the vampires appeared.

"Right on schedule," she noted dryly. She reached up to the altar and grabbed a candle. This she held over the fire, allowing the melting wax to drip onto her fingers. When it was cooler, though still malleable, she plugged her ears with it and continued drinking her dinner. She could feel the dark energies emanating from the creatures outside, but she could hear nothing. Finished with her soup, she tossed the empty cup away carelessly, lay down near her fire and went to sleep.

She awoke with a start, as she had that morning, and looked outside. The yard was empty, so she removed her makeshift earplugs.

_"Islene…"_

Her eyes widened in delight. "Scott?" she asked softly, hurrying to the window. There he stood, smiling at her. She nearly ran out to him, as before, but then remembered that this could be a trick. She went back to the window.

"Soul…won't you come out to me? It's safe, none of the others are here," he said.

"Soul…" she whispered. Yes, it was him, it had to be! But as she turned to go to the door, she shuddered as a wave of cold, dark energy hit her like a breath of winter. Something was wrong. She returned to the window and looked at him closely. What was it? There was definitely something 'off' about him, but she couldn't quite place it…until she saw his eyes. There was something wrong with his eyes. Casually, she called, "I'd rather stay inside tonight. I'm really tired, and I don't feel so well."

"Then shall I come in to you?" he asked. Islene laughed.

"Oh, Scott, you make me smile," she said airily. "You can't come in here, even if I invite you. It's a church, remember?"

"Oh, yes," said Scott, grinding his teeth a little, which Islene did not fail to notice. "Yes, of course."

"We can talk just as easily through the window anyway," she added. "I was just thinking about our last date. The Ren faire, remember that?"

"Ah, yes," said Scott smiling. "You looked so beautiful in your gown."

"Yes, and you were so handsome in your armor," she said with a smile.

"I'm glad you liked it," he said. "Though it was kind of uncomfortable."

"What colours were my dress, do you remember? I somehow can't," she said.

"Uh, red and black," he said. "Your favourite colours."

"Yes, now I remember," she said. "Come a little closer, there's something I want you to see." Curiously, Scott edged closer. Islene ducked down, presumably to pick something up, then popped up and shoved a silver cross in his face. "Scott" shrieked and fell back, hissing at her.

"Soul, why did you...?" he began, but Islene cut him off.

"Did you really think you could fool me?" she snapped. "I don't know who you are, but Scott would never look at me with bloodlust in his eyes. And he didn't wear armor to the faire, and my dress wasn't black and red."

"I don't care if it was puce and marmalade!" snarled Aaron, the illusion evaporating almost instantly.

"Where's the real Scott, you bastard?" demanded Islene.

"Sorry, girlie, that's not my department," sneered Aaron.

"Who are you to call me 'girlie'!" shouted Islene furiously. "And I know that you _do_ know where Scott is, and I demand that you tell me!"

"Fine then," said Aaron. "He's chained up in the deepest dungeon of the Count Von Krolock's castle."

"Liar," said Islene. "You have one more chance before I go into your twisted little brain and extract the information myself." Aaron stared at her.

"You couldn't," he said.

"I could."

"You _wouldn't_."

"I would."

"You won't!"

"I will!"

Islene's eyes flashed dangerously, and Aaron, fearful that she actually possessed the ability to reach into his mind, threw up his hands.

"All right, _all right!"_ he said. "Scott's locked in his room, drifting in and out of consciousness, under the influence of a strong drug that'll keep him incapacitated for hours. It won't hurt him, just leave him feeling feverish and exhausted, his limbs too heavy to move. I must say, though, you two must have a very strong affection for each other because he's been moaning, writhing, and struggling all night, going on about how he has to reach you, how he promised he'd meet you tonight. Very touching. Or it would be, if I cared. Now, you come out of there now, or I'll-"

"You'll what?" demanded Islene. "You can't do anything! And don't even think about threatening Scott because if you do, you'll turn me into the most dangerous kind of enemy, even for a vampire: an enemy with nothing to lose."

"Jeez, you _are_ telepathic, aren't you?" commented Aaron.

"No, just perceptive," replied Islene. "Besides, why are you so desperate to get me now? Running out of patience?"

"No, if I don't come back with you tonight, I'll probably have my ears cut off or something."

Islene was silent for a moment, then she said in feigned surprise, "Oh I'm sorry, was I supposed to care? Besides, you've got more important parts of your anatomy to be worried for."

"What do you…oh," he said grimacing. "C'mon, please?"

"No," she said coldly. "Why should I, just for you? Just because you asked me to? I don't think so. Good-night, and good luck." She turned to leave.

"You can't just walk away from me!" shouted Aaron, running up to the window. He couldn't see her. Just as he was about to leave, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and screamed as he was slashed between the legs by a silver-plated sword. He staggered back, clutching his mutilated parts as they healed.

"If that had been permanent, I would have been _very_ upset!" he hissed between clenched teeth.

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," replied Islene, going back inside and locking the door. Outside, Aaron groaned.

"Giovanni is _not_ going to like this," he sighed. Dejectedly, he trudged back, fully expecting to be castrated a second time once he delivered the bad news.


	5. Captured

Captured

Islene didn't go back to sleep. She was still staring at her bloodied sword. The sword had been a Christmas gift from her sister. It was called a vampire sword, bought from a medieval weaponry magazine. A magnificent piece of work, really, quite imposing. It was rather long with three blood grooves etched into the blade, a polished ebony grip, with a silver plated bat crossguard, and a silver plated pommel which looked to Islene like a pair of floppy rabbit ears. She had always loved swords and daggers and the like, but now she wondered dimly why she had wanted this particular sword.

"Oh that's right," she said to herself. "I used to have a vampire fetish. I wonder why _that_ died." She scowled darkly at the blade in her hand, then sighed. "It's not the sword's fault. Besides, it's still a superb sword. It's all I have left of my sister now." So saying, she cleaned off the blade, dipping her handkerchief in a basin of holy water since she had nothing else, and slipped it back into its sheath. "Well, what am I going to do today? I don't feel like reading or writing, and I've tempted Fate enough for one morning. So what's left?" She thought about exploring the whole church, but she had already done that with Scott while he was there. Then again, they had never made it up to the bell towers…smiling, she rose and made her way to the stairs and began her ascent. On the way, she noticed another room she had overlooked previously. Curious, she entered. The room was full of musical instruments! She looked around, her eyes wide with delight. Spying a piano in the corner, she went over to it, sat down, and began to play any tune she could remember. She had once been a pretty good pianist, but she hadn't played in five months, so she was very rusty. But she eased herself back into it after a while. She lost track of time while she sat playing, so she received quite a start when she was taking a break and the bells started tolling in the belfry directly above her.

"Oh, I guess I forgot what I was doing," she said to herself. She rose, intending to continue her exploring, when she was struck by a stabbing pain in her head. Groaning, she stumbled back, as the pain worsened and spread through her whole body. She retched as a wave of nausea passed through her, and crumpled to the floor, clutching her head and writhing. Finally, the horrible episode passed and she was able to stand slowly. Groggily, she remembered something she had somehow managed to forget. She had epilepsy, and she hadn't taken her medication in a long while because the seizures had stopped. Moving very slowly, and still bent over a little, she made her way back down to the altar to find and take her medicine and take a nap for a while. She was in for a nasty surprise. When she reached her little "camp" and rummaged around in her pack, she found the pill bottle all right, but it was empty.

"Oh no," she whispered. "I do _not _need this right now." Frantically she searched for her backup supplies, but there were none to be found. She was having seizures again, and she had no medication. This could kill her, she realized, or at least it felt like it, and her hands began to shake. Suddenly she frowned and steadied herself. "Am I going to get all worked up over this? I've been down and out before, but I've gotten right back up again. There won't be anyone out there. All I have to do is break into the pharmacy, find my medicine, and get back here and no one will be the wiser! I'm not going to let this get to me! Not again!" So saying, she jumped to her feet, opened the trapdoor beneath the altar, and descended through it, murmuring, "I will go quickly, and come back as soon as I can!" And yet, for all her outward confidence, a little voice in the back of her mind was saying, 'No, no, don't go now. You can manage another day without it, something's not right here. There is a difference between silence and utter silence, and this is it, don't you see? Listen!' But of course it was silent. She was down below the crypts under the altar; it was literally silent as the grave. She was used to the silence; she had spent her life in silence. 'Why stop now?' she reasoned. Why should today be any more or less dangerous than sneaking out had always been? She came up in the deserted streets through a manhole, glancing around first to make sure there was truly no one there. She could feel no negative energies, and there was no scent of death and blood in the air. The proverbial coast was clear. She pushed the manhole all the way to one side and climbed out slowly. She still felt nauseated from her episode before. At least the pharmacy was nearby, so she would be going back soon. She resisted the instinctive urge to start singing softly to herself, as she often did in tight situations, fearful that it might alert any undead in close proximity. Instead, she sang in her head as she made her way quickly to the pharmacy. Not caring the least for covering up her tracks (it wasn't like the police were going to arrest her for vandalism and/or burglary) she smashed in the glass door, reached inside, and unlocked the door from within. That done, she went in and made her way to the storage room and began to search as quickly as she could for her medicine. She froze for a moment, when the thought struck her that someday there wouldn't be anymore, but she continued, saying to herself, "But it is not this day." At last, at long last, she found the bottle with her name on it. However, the sun was sinking in the horizon by this time. Soon, she knew, she would be seeing dark shapes rising seemingly out of the ground. She left quickly, tucking the bottle into her inside jacket pocket. She ran, constantly glancing over her shoulder. Because of this, she didn't notice the figure in front of her until she ran into him, falling backwards. She steadied herself, and looked up. She saw a tall vampire male with bluish-white skin, glowing red eyes, and thick moon-white hair that hung around his face down almost to his chin. She gasped in shock.

"Hello, my dear," he said with a dark smile.

_"Jonathan?"_ she whispered, her eyes wide with fright. "But you're not real! You're just a character I made up for my stories! You're a dream!"

"The dream's alive," replied the tall albino. With a slight hiss, he lunged at her. She jumped out of the way, miraculously, and backed off. "We're all around you now," he told her. "Now you're in trouble."

"Trouble? No way," she scoffed. "You're only in trouble if you get caught!"

"Gotcha!" crowed a voice from behind her, seizing the front of her shirt and turning her sharply around.

"I'm in trouble!" Frantically her eyes darted around for something, _anything_ that would be of any use to her. Why, oh _why_, had she gone out without holy water and garlic? Or her sword, for that matter. Well, now was not the time to kick herself for her stupidity. She could do that later, if later even occurred. The vampire holding her hoisted her off the ground, giving her an idea. She hooked her foot around the back of his knees and pulled sharply, somehow managing to get enough force to make him fall back and release her. She fell to the ground, sprang up immediately, and ran for her life. At length, she ran into an alley. Instead of panicking like a cornered mouse, she looked around again, jumped up on a pile of old boxes and crates, and continued jumping up them like a mountain goat to the rooftops above. A pack of vampires came running into the alley below her, saw her looking down at them, and shouted, "You won't get away so easy!"

"You think that was easy?" she asked as she turned and ran. As the edge of the rooftop appeared, she remembered something she hadn't thought of before: she couldn't jump rooftops. She skidded to a halt just before she reached the edge and spun around. As she had suspected, she was being pursued across the roofs. She looked down to the ground.

"I bet I can make that," she muttered, just before closing her eyes and jumping off. Behind her, or rather, above her, she heard a surprised cry of, "I don't believe it! She jumped!" but that didn't matter. She was flying, as she had always longed to fly, even though it would end soon. She waited for the burst of undoubtedly blinding pain from the impact of her body on the asphalt, but it didn't come. In fact, it seemed like she was floating. She opened her eyes and saw none other than white-haired, red-eyed Jonathan smiling down at her as he held her in his arms.

"Was flying fun?" he asked her.

"Let go of me, snake!" she shouted angrily, kicking and fighting furiously. Jonathan just laughed gently, though somehow not at her. With an animalistic snarl, she swiped at his face with her claw-like nails. Jonathan hadn't been expecting that, and dropped her to clutch at his bleeding cheek. Islene seized her chance and bolted.

"Stop her!" someone shouted behind her. "We must not lose His Excellency's fixation this time!" But she refused to be stopped.

"You go tell His Not-So-Excellent-Cy that he can kiss my white Irish ass!" she shouted over her shoulder. Suddenly, her mind was clouded by an all-too-familiar pain. "Oh, the gods, _no!_" she gasped. "This can't be happening, not here, not _now!_"But it was. She was having another seizure. She stumbled, putting one hand to her head and the other over her stomach. Suddenly, she realized how very small and alone she was. And how very afraid. Everything slowed down; the very air itself seemed to drag at her legs like the undertow of the sea. Her foot caught on something, but she didn't even feel it until she realized she was falling, truly falling, and yet it seemed she stayed still while the ground came up to meet her. But before it did, it twisted around her so that she was falling into the sky instead. But the sky didn't move. She realized that she was on her back on the asphalt, gazing up into the golden sunset, and realized how beautiful it truly was, and how she had missed watching it as she had always done before. Living shadows, breathing nightmares swam into view above her, but somehow it didn't seem to matter as much anymore. The shadows were speaking to one another: "What's happening to her?" "Is she all right?" "She's sick, really sick." None of it made any sense, really. Then Scott's words came back to her through the pain and confusion:

"I love you. I always love you. And I will always love you… But I don't want you to give up all that we've fought for just for me… They've put us through hell, now we're going to give it right back to them."

She was giving up, and she hadn't even realized it. With numbed fingers, she reached up to her neck and pulled out her rosary.

"In God's name, get away from me!" she wheezed, ever word painful. "Don't touch me!" The vampires above her hissed and shrank back. Then they parted to give way to…

"Jonathan," she whispered. "Will you never leave me alone?"

Jonathan smiled as he lifted her up, cradling her in his arms like her father once had. "I can't, and you know that. I warned you all those years ago."

"I couldn't hear what you said," she said. "I always wondered."

"Well, now you know," replied Jonathan, knowing Islene didn't really know she was speaking or being spoken to. Everything had taken on a dreamlike quality to her; her body's way of trying to shut out the pain. She blacked out as Jonathan took to the air, carrying her away from all that she had fought for.

Scott. Scott and Scott and Scott. That was all that filled her mind when she awoke. Her lips formed the word, but no sound came out, save for a pathetic little half-squeak. A dark figure standing next to the bed moved towards her. Instinctively, and with surprising agility considering her weakened state, she shied away from it.

"Soul, it's OK, it's me," said the shadow. "It's me."

"Scott?" she asked hoarsely.

"Yes," said Scott, sitting on the bed next to her. "The real Scott."

"If it's really you, then talk to me," she said. "Tell me about the faire that day. Tell me about our costumes, what we did, what we saw."

"You wore a Sherwood Forrest gown, black velvet and green silk," he said. "We wanted it to bring out your eyes as much as possible, but they didn't have green velvet. I wore rather tight-fitting black leather pants, old-fashioned black boots, and a loose poet's shirt. You said you liked that style of shirt, so I wore it for you."

"Yes," whispered Islene. "It really is you, then." She looked around, slowly realizing that she was not in the street or the church. "Where are we?" Scott looked down sadly.

"We're in the Castle Von Krolock," he said. Islene's eyes widened. She sat up, ignoring the flash of pain in her head, which subsided quickly.

"No," she said. "You're serious?" Scott nodded. "Then I have to get out of here. There's still a chance if you help me, we might-"

"Soul, it's too late," said Scott heavily. "I hate to admit it, but it's too late."

"What are you saying?" she asked hotly. "You're giving up?"

"No!" said Scott. "No, not at all! But we're locked in, the door and window are both guarded, you're still recovering from that seizure, and I'm just finally starting to recover from whatever drug they gave me. We're both prisoners here, and there's no way out. And I'm exhausted because I haven't fed since I came back last night." Islene sighed as she realized Scott was right.

"I'm not going down without a fight," she declared. "I'll never just surrender, not to them, not to anyone, ever." Scott smiled proudly.

"I knew you wouldn't," he said.

"Just like you didn't," she replied, smiling back. "Scott, I love you."

"I love you too." Their lips met. Scott held Islene close to him tightly, defying anyone to try and take her from his loving embrace. A deep, throaty laugh sounded gently from the vicinity of the door. Islene and Scott looked up to see the charismatic Count Von Krolock standing there watching them. Scott slowly released Islene, rose to his feet, and left the room.

"No, Scott, don't leave me!" said Islene, reaching out to him. "For God's sake, let him stay!" she said to the Count.

"He is no longer needed," replied Giovanni smoothly. "You'll see him again soon, though, I promise." He moved towards her.

"Stay away from me, or I'll-" she broke as she reached for her rosary and realized it was not there. Giovanni smiled at her.

"We couldn't have that," he said calmly. "It would have been a dreadful hindrance, you see. Of course, you've had your other means of hindering us. You certainly have been quite evasive these last five months."

"I defy you to say you don't care, if you can," she retorted. The Count raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Whatever do you mean by that?" he asked innocently.

"Why me?" she demanded. "Why were you so intent on catching me? There must be another reason, other than that I'm the last human, or else why would you have gone to such lengths to try and trick me? If you were only concerned with my being the last living human, you could have just left me to die in that church, alone. Why so interested in me?"

"You really are perceptive, aren't you?" commented the Count. "And inquisitive. Well, don't worry. You'll soon have all your answers, and more." He moved closer.

"Keep away!" she cried, struggling to her feet and looking around for something, anything with which to make a cross out of. There was nothing, not even candles. Apparently, the Count _had_ kept up with the times and revamped, if you'll excuse the pun, his ancient castle, fitting it with modern necessities like electricity. She spun around again when she heard the Count laughing at her.

"You didn't think I would have thought of that beforehand?" he asked. "None of your old tricks will help you now."

" 'Logic, logic…will not 'elp you 'ere,' " she quoted sardonically. The Count only smiled. To the very end, Islene was looking around for some means of escape or defending herself. And ever after, she would always remember the Count's eyes as he descended on her, plunging her into darkness. Darkness. That was all she had ever had.

_"Endless darkness…where is that?"_


End file.
